Black as Night: A Fairy Tale Retold (25 page)

“Sometimes I wish I never met him,” the girl said, her throat contracting suddenly. “I wish I’d never known what a unicorn was like. Then maybe—”

The friar held up a finger to his lips. He cocked his head, listening.

Pausing, the girl became aware of the sound of a guitar, and someone humming in a soft voice.

Brother Herman stroked his long beard, picked up his chalk, and struck out in a new direction on the plaster. “Listen to the words,” he directed the girl in a whisper.

The girl strained, listening as the voice began to sing.

Sometimes, it amazes me
How strong the power of love can be
Sometimes it just takes my breath away.

You watched my love grow like a child,
Sometimes gentle and sometimes wild,
Sometimes you just take my breath away.

And it’s too good to slip by,
It’s too good to lose,
It’s too good to be there just to use.

I’m going to stand on a mountaintop and tell the good news
That you take my breath away.

Finished, Brother Herman climbed down from the ladder, and said in a confidential hush to the girl, “Let’s go find him.”

II

Your beauty is there in all I see
And when I feel your eyes on me
Sometimes you just take my breath away.

 Since my life is yours, my heart will be
Singing for you eternally
Sometimes you just take my breath away.

Leon missed a chord and swiftly tightened a peg. The old strings on Matt’s guitar were giving out again. Sitting cross-legged in a corner of the sacristy closet, he regularized his picking again. The battered plaster statues of the saints stood around the little space, their graceful heads inclined towards him, as though they were listening. Closing his eyes, he sang softly,

And it’s too good to slip by,
It’s too good to lose,
It’s too good to be there just to use.

I’m going to stand on a mountaintop and tell the good news
That you take my breath away.

At last he receded, and let his picking linger to a stop. When the last string had stopped vibrating and stillness filled the closet again, he looked up to find he had a live audience as well. Brother Herman and Nora were leaning against the wall of the sacristy, listening.

He was embarrassed. “Just giving a private concert to your invalids, Brother Herman,” he said, nodding towards the statues that the artist friar was planning on repairing.

“Beautiful,” Brother Herman said. He glanced at Nora, who still hadn’t moved.

“Yes,” she said at last. She took a deep breath. “Is that a religious song?”

“It’s just a folk song from the 70’s I learned growing up,” Brother Leon said. “No, it’s not really religious.”

“But it’s a true love song,” Brother Herman said, patting Nora’s shoulder. “And hence, deeply religious.” He nodded his head towards the sanctuary. “Come and see?” he invited Leon.

A bit puzzled, Leon set down his guitar and followed them both out to the Mary altar. He looked up to see the dove’s wings that now embraced the space over the statue of the Virgin Mary. Ten minutes ago, that space had been barren cracked plaster. Leon was silent, marveling at how Brother Herman’s creations seemed to spring out of nowhere.

“Thanks for the inspiration, Leon,” Brother Herman said. He glanced at Nora, and said softly,

“Better to see and desire than never to see!

Better to die from desire than never to see!”

Leon was not sure what he was talking about, but Nora apparently did. She nodded, wiped her cheek, and took another deep breath.

“You may be right,” she whispered.

III

Bear kept on walking steadily, giving his tail—if it was a tail—a chance to locate and catch up with him. The sidewalk was dirty, the edges covered with trash blown by the wind and trapped in the crevices. Most of the stores he passed were boarded up or unoccupied. A dead section of town along a main road.

Making his way towards the Briers’ house, he stopped and crossed the main road, heading west. After crossing the first lane of traffic, he stood on the median, looking from side to side, waiting for a chance to cross, and watching for his shadow.

Then he caught a glimpse of a broad-shouldered man coming up the street. It was him. Apparently he had left his car to follow his prey on foot. He stood a few blocks down from Bear, waiting to cross the street with a group of people. If Bear hadn’t already been looking for him, he might never have noticed the man.

The old, once-too-familiar fear of being hunted came over him with a chill.
Who is he? A drug dealer from my past who found out I’ve got money now and stumbled onto Blanche as an easy way to get to me?
But he kept his pace steady.

Calculating the risks, Bear hurried across the traffic to the far side and started heading up the side street. He decided it was worth the risk to get a good look at this guy.

He walked for a few blocks, then took an abrupt turn down a promising alley and glanced around. There was a fire escape ladder hanging down on one side of the building, with a garage beyond it.

Bear moved fast. Using a garbage can as a way up, he clamped onto the lowest rung of the ladder, and wrestled himself up. Swiftly he climbed up to the balcony, then hurried to the corner of the building. If he was lucky, the man wouldn’t look up—at least not right away. Climbing over the fire escape railing, he dropped onto the roof of the nearby garage and crouched down in the shadows.

He waited, holding his breath. From his viewpoint, he had a clear view of the alley and the street beyond. No one passed by. The minutes stretched on, and he was just wondering if he had been a fool after all, when there were casual footsteps and a man appeared at the corner of the alleyway and paused. He was wearing dark glasses and a light jacket, and something about the way he was standing made Bear guess that he was carrying a concealed weapon.

Come on, get closer
, Bear internally urged, hoping to recognize the man.

But at this distance, it was still difficult to see him. The man checked the soles of his shoes as though he had stepped on something unpleasant, and Bear knew he was really trying to decide whether or not to pursue Bear down the alley.

Afraid of me? Or just not sure where I went?

He knew the man was more than his match in terms of build, and probably armed.
Chances are, he lost me
, Bear concluded, and wondered what would happen if he drew attention to himself. But an internal caution made him hold back. Unarmed on this rooftop, he was too much of a sitting duck if the man decided to shoot.

After an interval, the man adjusted the collar on his jacket and vanished, continuing up the street. Bear scrambled down the fire escape and crept down the alleyway as casually as possible. But when he reached the street, the man had vanished.

Bear started home, trying to calm his heart rate.
I think I almost met Blanche’s possible stalker.
But the real question was still a mystery. What had Blanche done to make herself a target?

Chapter Thirteen

…Lord, open my lips.

…And my mouth will proclaim your praise.

Standing at the lectern of the altar, catching the early morning sun, Father Francis read the antiphon for the Invitatory: “Come, let us give thanks to the Lord, for His great love is without end.” And the opening psalm began.

Friday. Morning prayer again. She was getting used to the routine. It didn’t seem quite so long. And she liked it. Now, standing in front of the Mary altar before Brother Herman’s new design, she was once more experiencing nearly perfect content, despite the fact that her neck was still sore from yesterday’s attack.
Ironic, isn’t it? Now that something bad actually happened to me again, I almost feel free from the sense of impending doom.

Father Francis began the hymn before the Office of Readings, and she joined with the other friars on the second verse:

To God the Father of the world,

His Son through whom He made all things

And Holy Spirit, bond of Love,

All glad creation sings…

She jumped as something ran over her foot. Brother Herman, in the pew behind her, also started. She turned around just in time to see Brother Charley leap into the aisle, grab a scaffolding plank leaning against the wall, and smash it on the ground with a tremendous crack.

Everyone in the church caught their breath. Father Francis looked up, his eyes wide.

Red-faced, Charley held up a dead rat by the tail. “Sorry. That wasn’t very Franciscan, was it?”

Taking a deep breath and reverting to his characteristic dry humor, Father Francis made a sign of the cross towards him. “Absolved. Give him a decent burial after prayer.”

Charley departed from the church with the dead rodent, and Father Francis, shaking his head, took up the Psalm again.

II

“Nora seems to be feeling better,” Brother Matt remarked to Leon as they gathered their notebooks for the novices’ class that morning.

“I’m not entirely sure that she should be,” Leon said.

Matt looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if I could explain it,” Leon confessed. Not because he couldn’t find the words, but because he didn’t want to break Nora’s confidence. She had told him about a sense of doom hanging over her a few nights ago, and he had been inclined at the time to brush it off as spiritual intuition gone haywire. But the fact that she had been assaulted, however randomly, bothered him. “She should be careful.”

“After all, that’s twice in the space of ten days that she’s been attacked,” Brother Charley spoke up, coming out of his bedroom. “You think she’s just one of those perennial victims?”

“I think there’s more to this than meets the eye,” Leon said. “She hasn’t told us everything that’s happened to her.”

“Brother George thinks she might be in trouble with the law,” Matt said with some seriousness. “He thinks it’s odd that she doesn’t talk much about herself. ‘She’s too quiet,’ he said to me.”

For some reason, this irritated Leon. “Maybe she just isn’t talking to
him
,” he said. “And I don’t blame her. I’m just hoping she’ll talk to one of the priests about what’s going on.
We
really don’t need to know.”

Brother Charley frowned. “So why are we talking about this?” he shouldered his backpack of books. “Let’s go downstairs.”

Feeling chastised, Leon tried to put thoughts of Nora’s problems aside and concentrate on his
Catechism of the Catholic Church
class. Fortunately, it was apologetics-based, and he usually found the subject interesting.

But just as he was warming to the subject, there was another interruption. Brother Herman poked his head in the doorway. “Sorry, Bernard. Two things. Tonio is here, asking to see you. And the Knights of Columbus are here with some food and other donations in a truck. Can I break up your class momentarily to get some help unloading?”

“That’s fine—we’re about due for a break anyhow,” Father Bernard said. “I wonder what Tonio wants?”

“He said he wanted to go to confession,” Brother Herman said. “He’s out on the steps waiting.”

“Praise God,” Father Bernard said, and went to the front door. The novices followed, and went outside with Brother Herman while Father Bernard talked quietly to the homeless man who was standing at the door, hat in hand and a penitent look on his thin face. Outside the friary a large truck was parked, and Father Francis was talking to the driver.